[Intro – spoken, raspy] Yeah… From the mud, for real. Ain’t no pretty way to tell this shit. Some of us was born with prayers over us… and pistols outside the window. Mama tried. The streets tried harder. [Verse 1] I was raised where the porch light flicker like a warning sign, where the dogs bark loud when them boys come creeping borderline. Grandma had the Bible open, mama had a bill due, I had hunger in my stomach and a heart that could kill you. Not because I was evil, shit, because I was empty, watched grown men fold when the county got windy. Cousin caught a case, uncle caught a grave, auntie caught a habit, and the preacher still prayed. Dirt road dreams with a trap house smell, youngins learning math off a digital scale. Blue lights passed, everybody went quiet, you could hear fear breathe when the whole block silent. I ain’t glorify the pain, I just paint what I seen, blood on white tees, tears on blue jeans. Country boy heart with a city full of scars, praying to God while I’m ducking cop cars. [Hook – sung raspy with harmonies] Lord, wash this mud off my soul, I been running through fire, I been walking through smoke. If I die on this road, let my story get told, I was cold, I was broke, but I never did fold. Oh Lord, hear a sinner from the dirt, I got blood on my boots and pain in my shirt. I been wrong, I been lost, I been hurt, I been cursed, but I’m still standing here, trying to make it work. [Verse 2] Gunshots sounded like drums in the midnight choir, sirens sang bass while the block caught fire. Lil’ homie got hard when his daddy disappeared, now he tote more trauma than he tote fear. We laughed at death, but that laugh was a mask, every “fuck it” we said had a tear in the back. A robbery ain’t just a lick, that shit haunt you later, when you see that man’s kids in the same damn paper. I sold poison to eat, then hated my reflection, counting dirty money with a clean heart begging. How the hell you survive when survival feels sinful? How you tell God sorry with a pocket full of pistols? I ain’t proud of every chapter, I’m just honest with the ink, I seen strong men drown with no water in the sink. This the prayer from a boy they expected to die, but the mud made roots, now I’m reaching for sky. [Bridge – gospel-blues hums] Mmm, I hear mama crying… Mmm, I hear graves replying… Mmm, I hear chains still dragging… but I hear God still asking… [Final Hook] Lord, wash this mud off my soul, I been running through fire, I been walking through smoke. If I die on this road, let my story get told, I was cold, I was broke, but I never did fold. Oh Lord, hear a sinner from the dirt, I got blood on my boots and pain in my shirt. I been wrong, I been lost, I been hurt, I been cursed, but I’m still standing here, trying to make it work. [Outro – spoken] This ain’t a confession for pity. This a warning with bass in it. Turn me up.
